Page 66 of Forbidden
“It looks like Forever Bachelor is going to lose his shit.”
“What?” I ask, more of a growl.
I pull my eyes from Storm, as she walks poolside, with her playful innocent smile. Her and Anastasia, both look stunning, but Storm is pure, panty-less, andmine.
I find Ryan and Dante staring at me, and I don’t like it. “You guys are full of shit!”
“Are we?” Dante asks, crossing his arms and now evaluating me.
“Are we, what?” Storm asks reaching us.
She shifts in her extremely high heels on the lawn, and she reaches for my arm for balance. I help her without thinking, and our hands find each other.
I notice more eyes on us, as Storm regains her balance. I then realize, we’re still holding hands.
“You too?” Anastasia asks Ryan, with a brow.
“What?” Storm and I ask, atexactly the same time.
“So cute!” Anastasia says smiling.
“What?” Storm asks, confused.
I rub a temple as I realize, I want to become invisible fast. Our hands unclasp, and I am not this guy. I do not hold hands, and I do not do large groups.
I am more private, and more reclusive than any of my private reclusive friends here.
Storm’s eyes go big, and she gets it. She clears her throat, and shakes her head. “Oh no, we’re just friends.”
“Right!” they all say. Every darned one of them.
“No, seriously,” I say, using my deep serious voice. “Friends.”
Anastasia takes her cousin Ryan’s champagne, and she has a sip. As she leans on his arm, she observes at Storm, and me. I shake my head, and Storm and I share a nervous look
“You two,” Anastasia says, pointing at us, “are so falling.”
Storm and I give each other another nervous look, and I look away and drink. I want to be sick, but instead, I knock back my glass.
I am spiraling out of control. And I am fucked.
21
STORM
Back in NYC, and overlooking Manhattan, I work out extra hard. I then do a hardcore yoga session in Lorenzo’s gym. I feel good, but I still think about some of those beautiful women at the party.
The kind Lorenzo must see around a lot, and the same type, he must have dated, and been inside.
I try not to hate them, because most of them must be nice. In saying that, as Lorenzo and I circulated on each other’s arms at the Remington party, several models gave me filthy looks. As if they wanted him.
After yoga, I walk into my bedroom. I peel my pants, and top off, and I pull a black towel around me. I patter barefoot through the penthouse, and all is quiet.
Now, all alone, I slip the towel off my breasts, and I wrap it firmly around my waist. I catch my breath, check the temperature on the console, and I enter the sauna.
“Oh God! Sorry,” I say, spinning away from Lorenzo’s naked body. “I didn’t know you’d be in here.”
I hear a towel flutter, and he mumbles, “It’s okay.”
